by Leena Clover
Heather spoke up in Jenny’s defense.
“Mr. Jones, I live in Pelican Cove too. Believe me, we are telling you the truth. Tyler came to our town as a troubadour.”
A large young man ambled into the room. His hair was cropped close to his head. His massive belly wobbled when he walked. He flopped down in a chair and spread his legs before him.
“Hey Gramps,” he said. “Who are these people?”
“Did you know Tyler sang on the street?” the old man asked the new arrival.
“Must be his latest fad,” the man said with a roll of his eyes.
Jenny introduced herself.
“We are here to learn more about Tyler.”
“This is my other grandson, Billy,” Mr. Jones told her. “He’s older than Tyler.”
“I’m your only grandson now,” Billy said callously.
A golden retriever bounded into the room. A striking pearl and diamond collar glittered around its neck.
“I’ve seen that dog somewhere,” Jenny exclaimed. “She looks very familiar.”
“This is Toffee,” Mr. Jones said. “She belonged to Tyler. The police brought her over.”
“Oh yeah, she was with him that night,” Jenny nodded.
She told Mr. Jones about the argument they had seen Tyler have with Ocean.
“Why was Tyler so adamant about not sharing street space?” Jenny asked. “Did he have any old feud with Ocean?”
“Never heard of him,” Mr. Jones said. He turned to look at Billy. “Did you?”
Billy picked up a shortbread cookie from the tea cart and munched on it, spilling crumbs on his shirt.
“Tyler was a weirdo. He didn’t have any friends.”
“You mean he was smarter than you,” the old man croaked. “You were always jealous of him, Billy.”
Billy picked up another handful of cookies and stalked out of the room.
“Speaking of friends,” Jenny said. “Did Tyler have any enemies, anyone who might have disliked him for whatever reason?”
“Billy was right in a way,” Mr. Jones said. “Tyler was a quiet one. He spent most of his time making music. He wasn’t the kind to hang out at bars and clubs. Most people were attracted to him because of his music.”
“But someone must have hated him enough to kill him,” Jenny reminded him. “What other motive could anyone have to harm your grandson?”
“What’s going on here?” a voice snarled from the door. “Who are these fillies?”
“Mind your manners, Andrew,” Mr. Jones bellowed. “These ladies are here to talk about Tyler.”
“What do they want? Some kind of donation in his name?”
“This young lady here is going to find out who killed Tyler.”
A tall, balding man wearing an expensive suit strode into the room. He didn’t spare a glance toward the women. Jenny guessed the man to be in his fifties. She assumed he was Tyler’s father.
“This is my son, Andrew,” Mr. Jones said. “He thinks everyone is after the family’s money.”
“And why shouldn’t I?” Andrew Jones demanded. “Someone’s here for a handout almost every day.”
“We have plenty,” Mr. Jones said. “There’s nothing wrong with sharing a bit with the less fortunate.”
“You sound just like that ninny Tyler,” Andrew Jones fumed. “He could have made millions with his music. But he had to go and give it away for free. Singing on some street corner like a beggar!”
“You knew he was a troubadour?” Mr. Jones asked, his eyes wide with surprise.
“What the dickens is a troubadour?” Andrew Jones asked. “All I know is he had pitched his tent in some dingy town on the coast. He stood there in the sun all day, playing his songs on that guitar.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about this?”
“What’s the use?” Andrew asked in disgust. “You would probably have gone and joined him there.”
“You didn’t approve of your son being a musician?” Jenny asked.
“Tyler wasn’t my son,” Andrew Jones said in a clipped voice.
Jenny noticed the old man’s eyes fill up.
“Tyler was an orphan. His parents died in a plane crash when he was seven.”
Jenny didn’t know what to say. She muttered something about being sorry.
“You need to leave,” Andrew Jones ordered. “My father needs his rest.”
“Come back anytime,” the old man said hoarsely. “I’m counting on you.”
Jenny and Heather walked out under the watchful eye of the butler.
“That was awkward,” Heather breathed. “Can’t imagine Tyler came from such an uptight family, huh?”
“He didn’t have to worry about paying the bills,” Jenny reasoned. “He could do anything he wanted with his life.”
“Now we know why he was so stubborn,” Heather observed. “He wasn’t used to sharing.”
The girls drove to Cary Street in downtown Richmond for lunch. Jenny ate her grilled steak sandwich with relish. Heather had chosen the roast duck.
“Have you thought about your wedding gown?” Heather asked Jenny. “I know Molly will have my hide if we go shopping without her, but there’s a couple of good shops right around the corner.”
“I guess there’s no harm in looking?” Jenny asked uncertainly.
“Now you’re talking, sista!” Heather gave her a high five.
“One thing’s for sure,” Jenny said. “I won’t be wearing white.”
“I guessed as much,” Heather said, taking a sip of her sweet tea. “We should have plenty of choices in ivory.”
“I don’t know how to say this, Heather,” Jenny said seriously, unable to hide the twinkle in her eye. “Will you be my maid of honor?”
“Only if you say pretty please,” Heather shot back.
The girls clinked their glasses and whooped loudly, their eyes shining brightly.
Chapter 6
Jenny worked the breakfast rush at the Boardwalk Café the next morning. It was a hot and humid summer day in Pelican Cove. The town was flooded with families trying to squeeze in a vacation before school started.
Jenny had placed a box of her truffles at the counter for people to taste. The response was overwhelmingly positive.
“Are you selling these by the dozen?” One woman wearing a gauzy cover-up over her bathing suit asked. “I need to take back some presents for my family. I will take a few dozen of these.”
Another man standing behind her was nodding his head.
“I say, that’s a great idea. My wife takes care of the shopping but she couldn’t come because of a last minute work thing. These will be a nice treat for her.”
Jenny beamed at them.
“These are just a sample batch. I haven’t decided if I am going to sell them at the café yet.”
The woman looked disappointed.
“Why not? They are going to fly off the shelves.”
Jenny felt pleased as she put a fresh batch of blueberry muffins in the oven. She was trying to calculate when she could squeeze in an extra hour to make the chocolates.
A tall raven haired man cleared his throat and rapped his knuckles on the counter impatiently.
“Hello Peter,” Jenny greeted him.
Peter Wilson wasn’t a regular at the café. Jenny was a bit surprised to see him there that morning.
“Wife and kids are away,” he muttered. “I need some breakfast. How about a couple of those muffins with coffee?”
Jenny poured coffee in a cup and packed two muffins in a paper bag.
“I guess you heard about Tyler?” she asked.
“Who?”
“That young troubadour,” Jenny elaborated. “Haven’t you heard what happened to him?”
“Unbelievable, huh?” Peter said without emotion.
“Can I talk to you sometime?” Jenny asked quickly as she sensed his impatience.
“I need to get back to the garage. Is it important?”
“Sort of,” Jenny
nodded. “Why don’t you grab a table outside? I’ll join you in a few minutes.”
Peter Wilson grudgingly agreed.
Jenny quickly worked through the rest of the line and went out to the deck with a fresh pot of coffee. A couple of people wanted a top up.
She finally sat down before Peter. He had worked through the muffins and was wiping the crumbs off his face.
“What’s the matter?” Peter asked, leaning forward. “You in any trouble?”
“No, no …” Jenny hastened to reassure him. “Everything is fine.”
Peter Wilson had been a friend of the café’s previous owner. He had kept an eye on her for twenty five years. Jenny guessed he still felt a bit possessive about the café.
“Then what?” Peter prompted.
“I saw you at the town hall,” Jenny began. “You seemed pretty riled up.”
“You have no idea,” Peter grumbled, furrowing his brow. “That kid made my life hell.”
“How long was he in town, do you know?”
“He’s been banging that guitar for the past four weeks. I thought he would leave in a day or two but he just dug his heels in.”
“You didn’t like his type of music?”
“I never actually listened,” Peter admitted. “I just didn’t care for that type of thing. What is this? Las Vegas? We don’t want any street performers out here.”
“Troubadours have been welcome in Pelican Cove for centuries,” Jenny parroted. “At least that’s what Betty Sue said.”
“He didn’t stand outside her window, did he?” Peter shot back. “Now people are making me out to be the bad guy.”
“No one thinks you are bad,” Jenny assured him.
Peter Wilson hailed from the New Jersey mafia. He had left that life behind when he married a local woman and settled in Pelican Cove. Very few people knew about his past. But it was his Achilles’ heel.
“We’ll know soon enough,” Peter said cryptically, giving one of his habitual shrugs.
“How’s that?”
“I’m going to contest the elections,” he smirked. “I could be your next mayor.”
Jenny was speechless. She stared at the flannel clad figure before her and tried not to be too judgmental. She knew how snobbish the people in Pelican Cove could be. Peter Wilson was a blue collar worker and an outsider. Would the town people accept a virtual foreigner as their mayoral candidate?
“You don’t think I can do it?” Peter asked, narrowing his eyes.
“You’ll be up against Barb Norton,” Jenny burst out. “Everyone knows her.”
“But do they like her?” Peter asked. “She’s a bossy old shrew from what I have seen.”
“Barb may not have been the mayor all these years,” Jenny said carefully, “but she as good as ran the town. She’s on every committee, you know.”
“The way I see it, it boils down to what this town needs,” Peter said seriously. “I am willing to work hard to do that.”
“That’s admirable,” Jenny soothed. “I am sure the people will appreciate it.”
“So I can count on your support?” Peter asked eagerly.
“Sure,” Jenny shrugged. “Why don’t you work on your manifesto? We can discuss it when you are ready.”
“That sounds like a plan,” Peter said, slamming his fist on the table. “I knew I could count on you.”
Jenny decided to change the subject before Peter got carried away.
“Did you ever see Tyler talking to anyone?”
“What?” Peter asked. “Are we talking about that kid again?” He sounded irritated. “Why are you so hung up on him, Jenny?”
“I am trying to find out what happened to him.”
“Are you playing at being a detective again?” Peter asked with a frown. “Just forget that little twerp.”
“I can’t do that,” Jenny said, feeling incensed. “That young man had his whole life ahead of him. He didn’t deserve such a gruesome death.”
Peter Wilson was looking uncomfortable.
“I guess you are right.”
Jenny bottled her own emotions and said goodbye to Peter Wilson.
The day passed in a blur. Jenny had a dinner date with Adam but she was so tired she almost cancelled it. Adam arrived at her doorstep later that evening, holding a long stemmed rose in his hand.
“This is from your garden,” he said sheepishly. “I didn’t have time to get anything else.”
The devil on Jenny’s shoulder told her Adam was always busy.
“I have reservations at that bistro you like near Chincoteague,” Adam told her. “We need to start right away.”
Jenny brushed aside her exhaustion and tried to look upbeat. But her thoughts kept straying to Tyler Jones and his grieving grandfather.
Adam kept up the small talk through drinks and the main course, trying to draw Jenny out. He finally slammed his fork down in frustration during dessert.
Jenny was staring listlessly at her crème brulee.
“Didn’t you like the food?” Adam asked. “Why are you so quiet, Jenny?”
“I’m just tired,” Jenny admitted. “Summer’s always a busy time at the café.”
“And we have double the usual tourists nowadays, thanks to you.”
There was a note of pride in Adam’s voice. Jenny’s delicious food had put Pelican Cove on the map. It had always been a popular holiday destination. But the Eastern Shore of Virginia was lesser known compared to other places in the north. Jenny and her friend Heather had made clever use of social media to advertise the Boardwalk Café and the town itself.
“Do you think the twins will be my bridesmaids?” Jenny asked, referring to Adam’s college going girls.
“They will love it,” Adam assured her. “I think they are waiting for you to ask them.”
Jenny hadn’t really given it a thought. She decided to call the girls later.
“You’re used to big crowds at the café,” Adam mused. “Something else is bothering you.”
“Star and the Magnolias are expecting a big wedding.”
Jenny told him about having the wedding on the beach. Adam liked the idea a lot.
“So we have the venue,” he said cheerfully. “That’s a big item off the list.”
Jenny stared at the floor, her eyebrows drawn close in a frown.
“You are not thinking of that dead guy, are you?” Adam asked suddenly. “You have no excuse this time, Jenny. Absolutely no reason to get involved.”
“Jason needs my help,” Jenny said stoutly. “And Tyler’s grandpa wants me to find out what happened.”
“Where did you meet that old man?” Adam burst out. “How do you even know that kid’s family?”
“Heather and I went to Richmond,” Jenny admitted.
Adam balled up his napkin and called for the check. Neither Jenny nor Adam said much on the way back. Jenny stared out of her window and Adam concentrated on getting them home as soon as possible without breaking the speed limit.
“I thought you would be happy planning our wedding!” Adam stomped off after delivering his parting shot.
Jenny tossed and turned all night and was just falling asleep when her alarm went off at 5 AM. She dragged herself out of bed and got ready for the café.
Crab omelets were on the breakfast menu and Jenny was worked off her feet all morning. Her aunt arrived at 8 to help her out. Jenny felt she couldn’t make enough of anything. They were already out of the parfaits she had assembled the previous day. The tourists had gone through four dozen muffins and endless pots of coffee since that morning.
Jenny was feeling harried when Betty Sue Morse barged in, her needles clacking as she twirled white wool around them. Heather was right behind.
“You’ll never guess who wants to be mayor,” she chortled.
“Peter talked to me yesterday,” Jenny said with a smile. “We should support him.”
Molly arrived a few minutes later and Jenny joined the Magnolias at their favorite table out on de
ck.
“I know Barb can be too much,” Betty Sue said. “But she’s worked hard for the town all these years.”
“She’s done the time, you mean,” Molly said. “But what does she propose to do as mayor? Has she said anything?”
“She is in favor of promoting tourism,” Heather told them. “She wants Pelican Cove to be the hottest beach town on the Eastern Shore.”
“That’s great,” Star said. “Good for business.”
“Wait a minute,” Betty Sue interrupted. “Are you sure more tourists are the answer? The town’s resources are stretched already. More crowds mean more litter on the beach, more noise and cars, more pollution…”
“But Grandma,” Heather argued. “It’s going to be good for our inn. We do well in the summer but our rooms are empty for most of the year.”
“We are getting by, aren’t we?” Betty Sue said with a shake of her head. “Greed is insatiable.”
“You sound just like Peter Wilson,” Molly spoke up. “He was at the library yesterday, printing out some flyers. He wants to drive the tourists away.”
“That sounds extreme,” Jenny offered. “Has he lost his mind? He knows this town runs on tourism.”
“He is quoting the dangers of over-tourism,” Molly explained. “He is citing the example of European cities like Venice.”
“Is the island going to sink because of the tourists?” Jenny sniggered.
“That’s not a laughing matter,” Betty Sue said, wagging a finger at Jenny. “We can only take so much. It’s just never been an issue so far.”
“So what you’re saying is, thousands of new tourists may not be good for the island?” Heather summed up.
“I think we need a balanced approach,” Molly said. “Peter Wilson is incensed because of the troubadours. He is forgetting he himself doesn’t belong here.”
“That’s a bit harsh,” Star protested. “He’s lived here for twenty five years. And I have lived here for forty five. Jenny here has been here for barely two years. I suppose we don’t belong here either.”
“That’s not what I meant,” Molly said, turning red. “I mean Peter Wilson is being unfair, just as he was to Tyler Jones.”
Jenny wondered why Peter had taken such a dislike to the young singer.
